


how far we've come

by katydidmischief (cassiejamie)



Series: The River Brings You Home [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Discussion of Long-Term Captivity of Secondary Character, Emotions, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trust Issues, Veteran of Iraq
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1895700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiejamie/pseuds/katydidmischief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky grumbles, swallowing down the dregs of his coffee. “How're my kids?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	how far we've come

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very late posting this one shot in the universe, I know. Honestly, things have not been good in RL and this series got pushed off to the side for a bit longer than expected. Hopefully you enjoy it and will forgive me for the delay to _monster_.
> 
> Every ounce of thanks for the comments, PMs, and Tumblr notes I've gotten about this series. They've been absolutely appreciated.

War creates broken men.

That's what Tony says anyway: he'd watched the war machine sap the life from his father, feed the old man's guilt, and he'd watched how their weapons had fed the greed that caused Obie's fall from grace. He'd seen, firsthand, the repercussions of his family's empire when the mantle—and the paperwork—came to him.

He's not a pacifist and he accepts that war is something that will never entirely disappear, but he spends his days trying to better the world through whatever means he can. After all, he's got five kids, he's gotta leave the planet in better shape than it was left for him.

“Steve'll be glad you came by.”

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters. He rubs at his prosthetic arm, the plastic pinching at the back as always and Tony itches to steal it away, engineer something that won't hurt the man further. “Yeah, I wish I could stay until he gets home...”

Tony shoves the coffee mug closer, and replies, “Hey, you got out of the house today. He'll be so proud when I tell him,” because seriously, after being held captive for six years, Bucky has found himself out of sync with the world, out of sync with himself, and he's become a shut-in. Leaving his house for even half an hour sends Steve into fits of joy on par with the exuberance of Natasha calling him Papa, of Bruce appropriately managing his anger, of Thor getting through a Loki report without resorting to self-flagellation, of Clint acting independently of Natasha.

Barnes snorts. “Proud I did something everyone else does everyday of their lives.”

“It's different and you know it.”

“Like it's an excuse.”

“Is it an excuse when he has to spend the entire day in our room because the neighbors set off fireworks and he can't help but flashback?”

The scowl that takes over Bucky's face shows his clear disdain for Tony's logic. And Tony gets it: their shared childhood and teenage years, the shared experience of being in the service together and being in the same unit... it was a long history and it was filled with all the times Bucky had stood up for Steve, did whatever he could for Steve. Had things gone another way, Tony is convinced they might of ended up a couple. (They wouldn't have.) And Tony has learned enough about their relationship to know that Bucky still thinks the sun shines out of Steve's ass.

“That's...”

“Different?”

Bucky grumbles, swallowing down the dregs of his coffee. “How're my kids?”

It could be weird, hearing someone refer to his children as their own, but it's not. For whatever reason, it never has and Tony figures it means, in the very least, that Bucky knows that there are people in his life that consider him family, people who had missed him and grieved for him when he was gone.

“They're fine. Graduation is next week. Semi-formal dress—wear the khakis Pepper bought you and the blue shirt—and we're doing Green Dragon after.”

Bucky looks terrified; he asks, “Isn't it limited to immediately family only?” with a guarded expression.

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

He's quiet for a moment, then, “And if I can't...” he struggles to find the words, simple as they are, and Tony waits until Bucky finishes, “If I can't be around that many people yet?”

“Then you stay where you feel safe and we'll bring some dinner to the house. Honestly, Thor will be happy if you're there, but he will understand if you're not.”

Bucky nods at that, appeased for the moment and his guilt swayed. He opens his mouth to ask about Natasha and Clint and the adoption paperwork, but the door swings with force and a red-haired blur makes for the stairs. Bruce follows a split-second later, though he manages to acknowledge the man sitting at the kitchen island with a polite smile and a quick, “Hey, Uncle James!” before he disappears to the second floor.

Thankfully, that ends the frenetic movements of his children and when Clint comes strolling in, it's with his usual gentle tread. He stops, even, to close the door behind him; he drops his backpack beside the couch and heads toward the kitchen, halting when he sees Bucky there.

As always, it takes a moment before either Clint or Bucky move: Clint remains ever weary of tall men with long, dark hair and needs to process Bucky's presence before he can so much as say hello, and Bucky, good man he is, doesn't ever push.

The color, having drained from Clint's face, floods back. “Hi.”

“Hey, pal. I didn't realize it was so late. Bet you're lookin' for your snack?”

Clint edges closer, nodding; he accepts the warm hand that clasps his shoulder and even manages a small smile, but the tension in the little body is painful and Bucky's never been keen on seeing a kid hurt.

He nods toward Tony, his usual parting gesture, and says, “Well, I'll stop bugging your dad then,” before gathering up his jacket and glove. He's gone a minute later, the vacated seat filled by Clint, and just as Tony sets the plate of fruit and cheese in front of his son, Steve walks in, freshly drycleaned pants and shirts hung in one hand.

“You will not believe the line at the cleaners. I swear, everyone waited until the last minute to get their clothes ready.” Steve disappears into the laundry room to hang everything up; he returns to the kitchen to find Clint has abandoned his snack mid-meal and wandered upstairs. Judging from the amount of noise currently emanating from the stairwell, he can only assume Bruce has the Wii going in celebration of the last day of his finals.

Tony, of course, is not pleased by this.

“I'm taking him to see a nutritionist,” he mutters, holding the half-eaten plate while simultaneously trying to calculate the calories eaten.

Steve grabs the plate and tells Tony, “Leave him be,” firmly. Seriously, the kid has a lot on his mind at the moment between testing, the adoption, and his worries about Loki. He's overwhelmed and it's showing as a decreased appetite. Still, he is eating and clearly eating enough in that he hasn't lost weight. He hasn't gained, but for the moment, the pediatrician isn't upset with his growth so Steve's refusing to panic.

_Isn't that a role reversal?_ he thinks.

Tony crosses his arms, then uncrosses them to lean against the counter. “He should be eating more than two-thirds of a cheese stick, half an apple, and two strawberries.”

“He's stressed, Tony. And before you start, you are no better when you're stressed or do I have to bring up...”

The last two bites of the cheese stick is unceremoniously shoved into Steve's mouth. He smirks around it, because yeah, he thought that would hit a nerve—Tony is notorious at SI for going without meals when he gets overwhelmed with a project and has had to be taken to the hospital enough times that there's now a plaque over his laboratory door that reads:

Bring food into lab: 5pts  
Get food into his hand: 15pts.  
Get him to drink a shake: 40pts.  
Get food in his mouth: Win at life.

Bruce grins every time he sees it.

“I still think I'm going to take him to a nutritionist.”

Steve sighs and sits down. “Just... talk to Fitz before you do. Please.”

(Tony wasn't there for Clint's last check up and consequently, hadn't seen the complete meltdown that Steve had. Whatever their son's issue was with doctors, they didn't yet know, but he'd had to be given a sedative and sit in Steve's lap simply so Dr. MacTaggert could listen to his heart.

Of course, Steve had told him, but unless someone actually witnessed it, they couldn't understand how traumatic the experience had been for both father and son.)

“I will,” Tony promises: it's a perfectly reasonable request and Tony has no reason to not agree to it, especially when Clint's next session is in two days. He snags a strawberry from the plate then, chewing thoughtfully before asking, “Did you see Bucky on your way in?”

“Taillights on the car,” Steve answers, but he's still smiling broadly. “How long was he here?”

“Almost an hour.”

Steve's smile brightens further and he leans up to kiss Tony soundly, saying, “Thank you,” when they part; Tony knows exactly what the thanks is for and he lifts an eyebrow. “He's your best friend and he's been through hell. It's not exactly a hardship to listen to him when he needs to talk.”

And it isn't, though Tony has and will admit that he misses the guy Bucky had been before his captivity. So carefree and full of jokes, loving his nephews with an ease that Tony had been pathetically appreciative of in their rougher times. They'd gotten on like a house on fire, causing a level of mayhem at family events that had often left Steve with a palm mark across his face.

“Tony, just... thank you for that, okay? It's...” he rubs his chin, looking away, and when he looks back, it's to find a paper and marker sign in front of Tony's face that reads, _Gah! Emotions!_

Laughter fills the kitchen.


End file.
